Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C7

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Chapter 7: The Territory Part 1

After hearing ’s words, Brandon finally set aside his tasks and turned his full attention to the matter at hand. “There are four and two quarries near —how could there be no reserves at all?” He raised his head, his light hazel eyes reflecting the slender figure of the elven maiden before him. “Even if there are no stockpiles, Goran—Elsun, and even Jandel—are provinces renowned for their fine timber production in Eruin. Tonygel is no exception. To my knowledge, Cold Fir Barony alone has seven sawmills. Even if we control only four of them temporarily, they should be able to produce enough lumber within a week to repair and reinforce the walls…”

He paused mid-sentence. In the game, a lumber mill’s weekly base production was one unit, with a specialty bonus doubling that in Tonygel—but that was in the game. He wasn’t entirely sure if reality mirrored it.

“You know that, my lord?” Fleur asked in her usual calm tone.

“Of course I do,” Brandon replied, suppressing his doubts. “So, what exactly is going on?”

“There are two reasons,” the elven maiden said, her expression stern. “First, the workers at the lumber mills belong to Grudin. They refuse to work for us.”

“Why?”

“Because they fear retaliation. In their eyes, my lord, your defeat is inevitable. After all, your enemy is the Earl of Jandel, while you… are but a fledgling noble with little influence.”

“It’s understandable,” Brandon nodded. “Then let them go. No need to force them. Without a sense of security, the people won’t follow us—it’s human nature. Empty promises mean nothing. But it doesn’t matter. The turning point is close. Once we overcome this first hurdle, our position will stabilize.”

“And until then, what about the labor for the lumber mills?” the elven maiden asked, her voice as flat as ever.

“What about Senian?”

“That won’t work either.”

“Why not?”

“Because before that, my lord, you must first reclaim the lumber mills.”

“What?” Brandon chuckled. “Surely the lumber mills aren’t out of our control?” He distinctly remembered that the nearest lumber mill was only a few miles from Cold Fir City. Had the scattered private armies of the nobles already regrouped outside the city? From what he knew, the combat prowess and tactical discipline of these forces were far from impressive.

Fleur shook her head, answering his unspoken question. “No. According to our information, three of the four lumber mills have been taken over by . The remaining one has been abandoned for five years…”

“Cave dwellers?” Brandon asked. “Aren’t they the lowest caste of ’s underground realm? Don’t they live deep beneath the surface? I thought the tribes of the underground world were constantly embroiled in conflict, not to mention their ongoing battles with demon lords. When did they find time to come topside?”

“There are rifts between Yhaggoroth and the surface world in the forest,” Fleur explained, pausing briefly. “The captain suspects that one of the tribes displaced by the chaos may have wandered here.”

“Doesn’t Grudin care?” Brandon muttered, frustration creeping into his voice as he rapped his knuckles against the table. “They’re his property…” He stopped abruptly, catching the elven maiden’s gaze—her emerald-green eyes, clear as a mountain lake, seemed to say, Who can understand what goes on in the minds of your filthy human nobles? He fell silent, realizing she was right. Grudin’s lackeys might strut around Cold Fir City, but their combat abilities were laughable—at least compared to his own ragtag band of mercenaries, who had routed them with ease. And now, faced with cave dwellers?

In the game, mercenaries were considered second-rate forces in the human world. But cave dwellers, though the lowest caste of Yhaggoroth, were still part of the underground kingdom’s formal military structure. They were equivalent to the finest units of Cruze, the strongest human empire under the Temple of Flames—light cavalry or pikemen, at the very least. In Eruin, they would be considered elite troops. For Grudin to rely on his thugs to fend off these invaders, defending against them would already be a headache—let alone launching an offensive.

Brandon couldn’t help but rub his temples, silently cursing the incompetence of those around him. But this realization also served as a reminder: while cave dwellers were considered low-tier units in his eyes, he had to acknowledge that this was still before the . At this time, the highest military ranks in any nation barely reached level five. It wasn’t like in Amber Sword, after Chapter Two, “War and Chaos,” when prodigies like the Great Alchemist Tama emerged and ancient units began to resurface, sending power levels skyrocketing. Having lived through that era, his perspective had been skewed. By comparison, the wars of this age felt almost childish.

Take Enstallone’s invasion of Buchi, for example. In the future, such a conflict would barely register as a border skirmish. Yet in this era, it was considered a rare and significant war.

And what did he have at his disposal? A handful of mercenaries, most of whom hadn’t even reached the iron rank. In the hierarchy of Amber Sword, they were considered subpar, much like the private armies of nobles. But in this time and place, they were the backbone of warfare. After all, this was Eruin, not Cruze, the Eagle Empire.

With this thought, the young lord rose to his feet. The elven maiden, still clutching her notebook, watched him quietly, though a flicker of curiosity passed through her jade-green eyes. “My lord?”

“Come with me,” Brandon replied.

“Where to?”

“We’re going to see someone.”

“Someone?” Fleur blinked, momentarily lost. “What for?”

“Nothing important,” Brandon murmured, shaking his head. He opened a drawer, retrieved the , and tucked it back into his robes. Then, almost absently, he accepted the sword the elven maiden handed him—a plain magical longsword, one of Grudin’s prized possessions. The baron himself was neither brave nor skilled in combat; he merely kept up appearances to fit in with the martial culture of Eruin’s nobility. Now, these trophies belonged to Brandon. He weighed the sword in his hand and sighed. It was an alchemical-grade longsword with an iron-rank tag—better than an ordinary blade, but far from capable of withstanding his full strength.

At moments like this, he couldn’t help but miss Lustrous Stinger, his old elven blade. Since losing it, he hadn’t found a weapon that truly suited him. Though he had targets in mind, there was never enough time, or the locations were inconvenient.

He sheathed the sword and added, “I just feel the urgency pressing down on me.”

The elven maiden glanced at him.

Moments later, the two stepped out of the study and walked silently along the northern corridor of the castle. But Brandon noticed that Fleur, still clutching her notebook, seemed to want to say something, only to hesitate and hold her tongue. He turned back. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Fleur replied, her gaze fixed on the empty hallway ahead. “It’s just… I still have Kabirus’s relics with me, my lord.”

“Ah, yes.” Brandon smacked his forehead. “I remember now. You wanted to ask me something last time, didn’t you?”

Fleur rummaged through her pouch and produced a small object. She extended her hand toward Brandon, palm open, revealing a golden, spindle-shaped artifact. Brandon stared at it, its weight and craftsmanship unmistakable. He blinked, then blurted out, “So that’s what it was. Kabirus really had some luck—” He paused. “No, I suppose I’m the lucky one.”

The elven maiden tilted her head, puzzled.

“This is called the ‘Stone of Order,’ or Gatestone. It’s a remarkable item,” Brandon explained, scrutinizing the golden spindle as if afraid of missing a single detail. “It can be used to expand a territory.”

“Expand a territory?”

Brandon looked away, his gaze drifting to an unnamed tree in the courtyard. “I’m not sure how to explain it to you,” he admitted. In Amber Sword, a Gatestone granted a territory a special attribute—for instance, “Rapid Growth” for forests (increasing lumber mill output by +1 weekly) or “Mastery” for workshops (boosting the chance of Craftsmen being born within the territory). But how such mechanics translated to the real world, he couldn’t say. After a moment’s thought, he settled on, “Suffice it to say, it’s an incredibly valuable treasure. I wonder where Kabirus got it—probably looted it. The southern nobles are known for their wealth.”

A fleeting thought crossed his mind: Should I go raiding too?

“Luck?” Fleur frowned slightly, pulling out another item—a ring. “My lord, this is also one of Kabirus’s relics.”

Brandon came to an abrupt halt.

His eyes locked onto the ring, its emblem depicting a crossed sword and shield. A flicker of recognition passed through his gaze. “The ,” he murmured, struggling to pronounce the name. “Is this also one of Kabirus’s relics?”

Fleur nodded but, seeing his reaction, asked, “Is it important?”

“Important?” Brandon took a deep breath. “More than you know.”

The Warrior’s Ring. On the surface, its name sounded mundane, akin to the Knight’s Ring, the Wizard’s Ring, or even the Elementalists’ Ring—commonplace, even. Its true value was hidden behind its unassuming facade. To the uninitiated, it might seem like any other trinket. But to those who understood its significance, it was one of the rarest and most priceless artifacts in the game.

Its rarity was evident from its tier alone: a gold-tagged, fantastical-grade accessory.

As Brandon scanned its attributes, everything became clear. Just as in the game, its description was simple, encapsulated in a single sentence—or rather, a single attribute.

It had only one effect.

Warrior Skill +1.

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